


Some Fucked Up Romcom

by godisthedice



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake/Pretend Relationship, GGE2017, M/M, Manic Episode, Marriage of Convenience, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13398150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godisthedice/pseuds/godisthedice
Summary: Two years after they locked him up, Mickey told himself that he was done with Ian fucking Gallagher for good.Two years as a free man and he's marrying him for all the wrong reasons.





	Some Fucked Up Romcom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alter-alterego](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=alter-alterego).



> Written for the 2017/18 Gallavich Gift Exchange as a present for [alter-alterego](http://alter-alterego.tumblr.com/), who requested protective!Mickey and a heaping dose of tropes, with a side of other characters showing up and being generally awesome. Hope I managed to satisfy those cravings for you!
> 
> And have a bonus [mix](https://open.spotify.com/user/godisthedice/playlist/7osUgmxadQjoBduBarFeYI) to go with it, while we're at it.

"I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."

In the ten years since Ian Gallagher stood on his front porch and told him to fuck off and get out of his life, Mickey Milkovich liked to think he'd done a lot of growing up. Just because most of that had been while he was in prison it didn't make it count any less. For example, he didn't tell Ian to fuck off or punch him in the face when he leaned against the bar at the Alibi Room and made some kind of bullshit proposal like that. He took a deep breath and turned to look him head to toe before he met his eyes.

Those eyes were just a little too bright. Mickey would have thought that Ian was on something if he hadn't seen him staring at him just like that one too many times back then. Ian was off his meds; he'd made it clear that wasn't any of Mickey's business though. Fuck him for caring about someone who'd rather run around being all fucked up than be with a guy who fucking loved his bitch ass.

Mickey knew it wasn't that simple now. Ian had been grieving, that was what the shrink they'd sent him to in jail had told him. A diagnosis was like the death of your old self, or some shit like that, and people reacted in different ways to it. It had come too late to do anything about Ian but it had given Mickey _something_. Something to make him stop obsessing over his ex and how everything had ended enough that he didn't tell Ian that he could have really been his boyfriend if Ian had just let him. Mickey had been in 'til death did them part.

"Fuck off, Gallagher." Okay. So he'd still said it. At least he'd thought about it first. See? Growth.

It wasn't like he'd actually expected that to work but it would have been nice if he could have caught a break for once. Instead Ian leaned in a little closer. "C'mon, Mick." Mickey's heart jumped in his chest because it never had caught on to the fact that all of that was over and there was no point in still wanting what it was never going to have again.

The first two years that Mickey had spent inside he'd spent thinking that Ian might change his mind. Once he got his pills straightened out. Once he got his shit together. Once he realized that the two of them were supposed to be together after all of the shit they'd been through to get there in the first place. It took until after even Svetlana and the kid stopped coming to visit for it to sink in that Ian had moved on from him a long time ago. On his two year anniversary of being locked up he'd gotten drunk on toilet wine and promised himself that he was done with them. He was done with all of them and he was especially done with Ian Gallagher. That had been before the mandatory counseling sessions when some fuckhead had decided that he was depressed but talking about it hadn't changed that call. Nothing was going to change that call.

Not even the fact that Ian was clearly out of his fucking mind and someone needed to convince him that whatever he thought was happening actually wasn't before something bad happened.

The regulars were watching them like they thought they were being subtle about it; the crowd hadn't changed much in the years since Mickey had been one of them. They'd been there when Mickey and Ian were going through hell and they'd been there during those times that Mickey tried even harder than that not to think about, the ones where everything had been good and he'd been _happy_ for the first time in his life. Mickey wanted to ask them what the fuck they thought was going to happen here but he knew the answer anyway. Everyone was waiting to see if they were going to fuck or fight because those had been the only two options once.

Even if that had been on the table to start with, Mickey wouldn't give them the satisfaction now. "No means no." No, he wasn't going to get pulled back into giving a shit about why the fuck Ian was running around like a fucking lunatic and no one was keeping an eye on him. He wasn't going to punch his stupid face for being too close and too pretty. He was thinking pretty hard about getting up and leaving but fuck that. He'd been here first. Gallagher's name wasn't on the place. There was no reason for Mickey to be the one to leave.

He took another drink of his beer. It tasted like ass and he nearly choked on it when it was going down his throat.

"C'mon Ian. I need some help in the back." The look that Kev gave Mickey made him want to stab his own eyes out; it was soft and apologetic and it made something clench in Mickey's stomach like he was going to puke. He didn't need Kevin Ball to protect him from anything but especially not from Ian. Mickey could handle Ian. Mickey had handled Ian through shit that none of these fuckers or Ian's family could handle. He wasn't going to break just because Ian asked him for something fucking stupid like pretending to be his boyfriend.

Whatever. He wasn't going to complain about Ian being gone so he could drink in peace without someone bugging him. Those looks lasted but Mickey figured that if he kept drinking he'd stop noticing them eventually. It almost worked. By the time that Kev had settled back in behind the bar and a few people had paid their tabs and gone home Mickey was close to not giving a fuck.

Of course where there was one Gallagher you were gonna get more. And of course it was _Phillip_ that popped in next. Not that he was dumb enough to try to talk to Mickey. Not this time anyway.

"He been in here?" Lip said it like there was only one 'him' that he could be talking about. Maybe there was. Not like Mickey had been keeping up with what the Gallaghers were up to. Two years out and he'd managed to avoid seeing them more than down the aisle in the grocery store or crowded around a table in the bar.

Kev didn't have to ask who Lip meant. Probably that meant that there was only one person that Lip would be asking about. "Yeah, earlier. I tried to keep him but… sorry."

"Fuck. Not your fault." Lip dragged a hand through his hair and turned around. His eyes met Mickey's and he gave him a nod like shit was actually okay between them or something.

Mostly Mickey had meant no more Ian but Gallaghers were like drugs. Once you slipped up with even one you were stuck in all their drama all over again. No fucking way was Mickey gonna set himself up for that.

"Hey." 

Lip stopped on his way out the door, turned around with his eyebrows flying toward his hairline. "Yeah?"

Mickey looked into his beer. "He didn't look so good." He wanted to ask why. He wanted to ask what the fuck happened while he'd been gone and why no one had taken care of Ian.

There was a second of silence where Mickey thought that maybe Lip was going to tell him without him having to ask. Instead he sighed. "Yeah." That was it. That was all. He was gone.

That was good. Mickey wasn't getting involved.

"I need another fuckin' beer." It was the last one that Mickey actually had to ask for the rest of the night and that was almost worth the looks Kev kept giving him when he slid them over.

* * *

_They_ had been chasing Ian for… that wasn't important. Time didn't mean anything. They'd been chasing him but Ian was too fast for them. Ian could run for miles without stopping and he could outrun anyone that was on his ass.

They'd almost caught up a couple times. When he'd stopped at the Alibi Room and there'd been some guy who… something. Ian couldn't remember except that Mickey had been there and Ian hadn't seem him since he'd gotten out of jail. Mickey'd been pissed off about something. Mickey was always pissed off about something though.

Mickey was hot when he was pissed off about something. If Ian had pressed him up against the bar he bet he would've been able to get Mickey back in the men's room with his pants around his ankles and that perfect ass in the air for him. The sex had always been amazing.

Ian hadn't gotten the chance to see if he could get Mickey back into the men's room. Kev had gotten in the way though. That meant it wasn't safe now. Someone had gotten to Kev, that was the only reason he would have tried to stop Ian long enough for _them_ to catch up. Maybe they'd threatened V or the girls. He didn't know. Couldn't ask and Kev would have denied it anyway. It had been a trap but Ian had gotten out of it in time. That had been…

Time. Time again. Time was a trap too because time kept trying to make him stop and think about it when he needed to keep moving.

Couldn't have stopped for Mickey either. Mickey'd always wanted him on the pills. Mickey'd wanted Ian safe and tame. He hadn't wanted him the way he was. Hadn't loved him the way he was. Monica had been right.

Monica was dead now. Ian forgot that sometimes when he was too busy running. Last time he'd asked Fiona where she was because Monica had always known what to do when Ian felt like if he stopped moving he'd die. Fiona had told him in a dead flat voice and Debbie had started crying and Ian had run as fast as he could and as far as he could before he crashed.

Ian was better now. He remembered that Monica was gone. He still wanted her.

"Gotta… gotta…" Ian shook his head and kept pacing down the sidewalk. He was out of places to go. The Alibi Room wasn't safe; Kev would hold him until they could catch up to him and Mickey would try to shove pills down his throat. If he went home then Fiona would look at him with big sad eyes and Debbie would take Franny away like she thought that Ian was going to hurt her or something.

Ian would never hurt Franny. There'd been a baby once. Mickey's baby. Ian had loved that baby and that baby had loved him. Ian was _good_ with babies. Franny wasn't a baby anymore but Ian had been good with her when she was and he'd been good with Liam before he got old enough that he didn't need them anymore. Debbie would still take Franny away if Ian tried to go there and be with his family.

They'd try to drag him back to the doctor too. They didn't understand that Ian didn't need the doctor. They didn't understand that Ian was the way he was supposed to be and it was the rest of the world that was fucked up.

"Are you alright?" The voice sounded like it belonged to a lady. A sweet lady. That was a trick. Ian fucking knew it was a trick even before he turned around and saw her. "You look like you need some help, sweetie. Can I call someone? An ambulance?"

They didn't let Ian on the ambulance anymore. Thought that he couldn't help people. They thought there was something wrong with him too.

Ian turned around and he knew as soon as he saw her that she was working for them. No one else realized that she was _one of them_ but Ian could see it. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

There were more people looking now. More people turning. Ian scrambled back away from her and she kept coming toward him with her hands stretched out and telling him that it was okay, she wouldn't hurt him. "I said stay the fuck away! Stay the fuck away or I'll… I'll…" He didn't have anything to kill her with. Ian was going to have to find a weapon or fight her with his bare hands.

More of the people were coming closer now but they were all in on it too. He could see it when they got closer. They were all working for _them_ and Ian was surrounded. He crouched with his hands balled into fists and ready to swing at the first motherfucker who got close enough for him to reach. There were too many of them but they weren't going to take him easily. He was Ian fucking Gallagher and he didn't go down without a good fight. He was going to take as many of them with him to hell as he could.

The one that finally broke through the crowd and stepped close enough was worse than the rest though. He was wearing a uniform. A badge. He was a fucking cop and Ian wasn't going to fucking let him take him either. He knew where he'd go if the cops got their hands on him.

"Put your hands up in the air where I can see them," the cop told Ian. Ian did, and as soon as the cop got close enough?

The crack of his nose against Ian's skull when he headbutted him was satisfying. "Fuck you! You're not gonna take me back there." Not back to the hospital. Not anywhere.

"Let me the fuck through," Ian heard, but he knew he couldn't be hearing right. That sounded like Mickey. Mickey was in jail.

Wait. Mickey wasn't in jail. Mickey'd been in the bar. That was right. He'd been there and it was Mickey that was in front of him now, pushing his way through and past the cop with the bleeding nose.

The cop caught Mickey and they were arguing now. Ian expected Mickey to join the fight. Mickey was always fighting. _They_ were always fighting. Together. Each other. Whatever. Mickey was letting the cop hold on to his arm though, like it didn't even matter. "If you know what he's on…" the cop said.

"He's not on anything. He's fuckin' bipolar. He's off his meds." Mickey scowled and Ian had forgotten how beautiful he was. Not the normal way things were beautiful. Mickey was beautiful in the way that only Mickey was beautiful and Ian wanted to reach out and grab him and hold him forever. Why'd they ever split up?

Mickey was still fighting for him. "He needs a fuckin' hospital, not the station. Get a fuckin' ambulance."

Ian didn't want an ambulance. "I don't want an ambulance."

"Yeah?" Mickey crossed his arms over his chest. "Too fuckin' bad. Sit your ass down, Gallagher, or I'll take it down."

"Not in public, Mick." Ian was fucking hilarious. He laughed, head tilting back and eyes fixing on the glare of the sun until he was seeing little bright spots.

 _They_ were all gone. Mickey must have chased them away.

Ian couldn't ask Mickey to stay and keep scaring them off, but he didn't have to. Mickey and the cop stayed even while the rest of the people started walking a wide circle around them. Mickey stayed when they were loading Ian into an ambulance and then he stepped into the ambulance with him. "I'm his fuckin' boyfriend," Mickey told them.

Yeah. Yeah, that was right. It didn't make sense for them to be broken up. Ian didn't know why he'd ever thought that in the first place. Of course Mickey was his boyfriend. Even if he wouldn't hold Ian's hand when he reached out for him.

* * *

Every time that Fiona got a call from the hospital about Ian she was afraid that it was going to be the last time; every time there was a sick part of her that thought at least if it was there wouldn't be that stomach dropping fear every time her phone rang. It wasn't something that they talked about but all she had to do was see the guilty way that Lip and Debbie didn't quite meet her eyes to know that they were thinking the same thing.

"Family of Ian Gallagher," she told the woman at the desk. The ER was the one place where it didn't matter that she'd rolled right out of bed and come charging in; no one was going to look twice at her crazy hair or the fact that Debbie was still wearing her nightgown with the jeans and boots she'd shoved on underneath it. Lip was the only one of them that looked even a little bit put together and Fiona was positive that was because he'd just fallen into bed without bothering to take off more than his shoes the night before. They'd clawed their way to being almost responsible adults, all three of them, but this felt like the first time every time. Numb, because they'd been doing it for as long as they could remember; terrified because it was Ian and this should never have happened to him.

The seconds it took the receptionist to check the computer felt like hours and Fiona wanted to scream at her to _hurry_ but she bit her tongue and clamped her fingers tight on the counter so that she wouldn't drum them. Lip and Debbie loomed behind her and she couldn't decide if it was comforting or if it made her want to scream at them to back off and give her some air. Trying to decide kept her distracted until the receptionist told her, "The doctor is with him right now. If you want to go wait with his boyfriend, someone will come get you when they're ready."

Fiona nodded along for a second because this wasn't the last time and that sick little part of her was silenced by the wave of relief. She nodded until the word 'boyfriend' sunk in and then she stopped short because Ian wasn't dating anyone. "His…" She shook her head because that wasn't important and she wasn't going to let this woman know that there was apparently a big part of her little brother's life that she didn't know about. "Of course. We'll go find him." How hard could it be? If this guy cared about him enough to come in with him then she knew exactly the kind of look that would be on his face. She'd seen it more than once. Like they weren't sure they were strong enough for what they'd signed up for.

When she scanned the waiting room and saw him she knew there was only one person the receptionist could be talking about.

Mickey Milkovich. The first face that she'd seen wearing that look back so long ago that she should have forgotten it. How could she though? More than ten years ago and he still wore it the exact same way now.

"Come on," she told Debbie and Lip, nodding toward him. "Let's go wait." Debbie's gasp when she spotted Mickey was audible; Lip just hummed quietly under his breath the way he always had as a kid when he was putting some kind of puzzle together.

Not that they'd ever had a puzzle that wasn't missing a few pieces.

Debbie settled next to Mickey when they got across the waiting room. Fiona sat across from him. Lip held up his pack of cigarettes and headed for the door. It was on the tip of Fiona's tongue to remind him to make sure he found one of the smoking areas so that he didn't get kicked out and leave them stranded. She didn't say it though. They'd been here enough times that he didn't need the reminder.

"He didn't tell us." Debbie was the one that broke the silence. She'd always liked Mickey the most out of all of Ian's boyfriends, Fiona thought. Maybe it was because Mickey had been the one that had been around when she'd been growing up, before she'd gotten caught up in her own life. Maybe it was because she'd learned after him that the boyfriends weren't going to last. She'd never gotten attached to another of Ian's boyfriends the way she had to Mickey. "That the two of you were back together."

Even though he had to have known that they were beside him, Mickey still jerked at the sound of her voice like it surprised him. It didn't take long for him to wipe that horrible look off his face and replace it with an even more horrible blankness. "Yeah, well. We were trying to keep it fuckin' quiet." 

Fiona got that; there was too much history for Mickey to just be some guy that Ian was dating and as much as she wanted to yell at him that they were Ian's _family_ and they needed to know these things… of course she got that maybe they'd wanted a little space to figure things out before they went and dragged everyone back into it. Mickey'd been family too, once upon a time. Oh, she'd wanted to blame him for the way Ian had fallen apart. She had for a long time once he was gone and Ian was a mess. She'd told herself that the way Ian got his life together after Mickey was out of the picture was a sign that it had been him. That he'd been the problem.

There hadn't been a Mickey to throw the blame on when things had fallen apart this time. Fiona hadn't realized until she saw him again that she'd given up on blaming him at all.

It felt like she was crossing something a lot wider than the narrow aisle between seats when she leaned over to squeeze his hand, slender fingers closing around his and her palm covering that faded 'U-UP' on his knuckles. "I'm glad. No one else ever fought for him like you did." None of the guys that came after him. Barely Ian's own family. Gallaghers knew how to fight but everyone knew that no one fought like a Milkovich. "Maybe…"

Saying that Ian would be okay felt like a lie. They hadn't started off much worse than this the first time but they'd all been so much younger then. Things seemed easier when you were younger. Like fighting for something actually meant that someday you'd win. That was before Monica went. Before life started seeming like something that was fragile enough they couldn't hold on to it just because they squeezed tight enough.

It was the sound of the door opening that saved Fiona from having to figure out how to finish that. "Fiona or Phillip Gallagher?"

"That's me." Fiona barely remembered to let go of Mickey's hand before she jumped to her feet. She and Lip, they were Ian's emergency contacts. Always had been. It was Fiona that was there most though. Fiona that was never going to stop coming when they called no matter how tired she got. She felt a few eyes on her while she crossed the room but most of them looked away fast. Somehow she knew that the ones still searing a hole in her back belonged to Mickey.

The nurse looked as tired as Fiona felt but he was still pleasant. Smiling. "We've got Mr. Gallagher settled into a room until we can transfer him to the psychiatric ward. He's sedated but he can have visitors." A pause and Fiona could feel the last of her nerves draining out of her. "He asked to see you first."

 _Poor Mickey_ , she thought, but maybe Ian hadn't thought he'd stick around. Maybe he wouldn't now that they were there. She'd have to text Debbie to sit on him or something. "Thank you," she told the nurse—because she had to thank someone for the fact that Ian was still around and she'd given up on God listening a long time ago.

* * *

After Mickey had walked out of that fucking hospital waiting room he'd told himself the same thing he had when he'd got out of jail and the same thing he had when he'd watched Lip walk out of the bar: he was done with the Gallaghers. Completely done. They were gonna stick Ian back on his meds and his family could fucking handle it this time the way that they'd handled it after Mickey'd been gone. Ian would tell them that Mickey'd been lying about being his boyfriend and that'd be fucking that. Mickey was pretty sure that wasn't what the shrink had meant during that conversation about closure or what the fuck ever but what the fuck did she know?

According to the fancy pieces of paper on her wall, a fuckton more than Mickey. Didn't mean Mickey was going to be smart about this shit.

The smart thing to do when he'd seen Little Red after he'd cracked open the front door would have been slamming it in her face, not opening it even further and letting her in. The next smart thing would have been telling her that he wasn't Ian's fucking boyfriend since if Ian had done it she wouldn't have been chewing his ass out over leaving the hospital before he got his turn to go see Ian.

Mickey's last chance to be smart would have been telling her fuck no when she'd given him that _look_ and told him, "He wants to see you."

And there he fucking was, walking down the hallway to see Ian fucking Gallagher in the hospital loony bin with his hands shoved into his pockets and the world's pushiest ginger walking behind him in case he bitched out of it. Someone must have given him concrete boots while he wasn't looking; his feet dragged with every step. Debbie crowded close to his back, one finger poking into his spine whenever dragging turned into stopping.

"He's not mad," she told him. He didn't have to see her to know that she was rolling her eyes.

Mickey grunted and jammed his hands even deeper into the pockets of his jeans. "I don't fuckin' care if he is." Not like he had any reason to be. Nothing said Mickey'd had to stay in the street with his crazy ass in the first place.

There was no fucking reason for her to sigh that loud. "Right. Gravity's just really heavy right now."

Flipping her off over his shoulder made Mickey feel better for a few seconds before she prodded him right into the room with all the fucking fruit loops.

He spotted Ian the second they walked in. That fucking hair would give him away anywhere. Mickey's stomach lurched for old time's sake, just the way it had when he was in love with the asshole. He needed to tell Debbie that this was a mistake. He needed to tell her he was getting the fuck out.

When Ian spotted him he smiled. Mickey forgot to say anything at all.

"Mick," the fucker said, once Debbie prodded Mickey close enough to the couch where Ian was waiting for them to talk. "Thanks for coming. Debs…" Mickey couldn't read the look that Ian gave his sister over Mickey's shoulder.

Apparently Debbie could though. "I'll wait by the door."

Mickey stood without saying a fucking word until Ian looked back at him. "You could sit the fuck down."

"Fuck off, Gallagher." Mickey sat, hands braced between his knees and clasped so tightly that his knuckles were pale. The smile that Ian gave him was him at his best. Like his bipolar shit and the meds and the breakup and jail had never happened. "Why aren't you a fucking zombie?"

"Between doses." The answer was easy. Like he was okay talking about this shit now. One more thing that'd changed and it just made all the familiar shit weirder. "And they had records. For what I was taking before. The shit that worked, not the shit that fucked me up more."

Mickey hadn't even known there'd been different shit. Shit that'd worked. "So why weren't you fucking on it?" It wasn't the question that Mickey needed to be asking him and it wasn't any of his fucking business. He figured Ian owed him one though. Just this once.

Ian's shrug was easy because he made it be, not because he was actually feeling it. Mickey hated that he still fucking remembered what that looked like on him. "Can't afford it. There was a mix up at the pharmacy. Got the wrong shit, didn't figure it out until I'd fucked up enough that they couldn't keep me at work. No job no insurance, no insurance…" He spread his hands out in front of him like that explained it all. Fucked up part was it did.

"That's fucked up." Mickey frowned at his knuckles. "So what. You just fuckin' go batshit again once they let you out?"

Another shrug. This one came with an unhappy twist of Ian's lips. "If I cut what they give me in half I'll be okay for a while but… yeah. Pretty much. Not like it was back then. Not since Medicaid got fucked over. No more pills if I can't afford them."

Mickey guessed they were fucking adults now, with Ian talking about shit like insurance and Mickey nodding along because he knew what he meant. Fuck, Mickey actually had insurance now. That was the weirdest fucking part of the whole thing. His job at the factory wasn't much but it was full time and he had fucking benefits.  
…Mickey had _fucking benefits_.

Of all the stupid shit he'd done that day the plan that was starting to come together in Mickey's head was the stupidest. "Why didn't you fuckin' tell them I lied?"

"Don't know." Ian must have been expecting him to ask; he just leaned back against the back of the couch and looked down at his own hands. "I almost did but Fiona and Debbie were happy about it. They haven't been happy about anything I've done since before my pills got fucked up. I'll tell them. Just… can we pretend? Just until I'm out of here."

Mickey looked at Ian while Ian wasn't looking at him. He hadn't really looked too close before. He hadn't noticed the start of lines around Ian's eyes or the way his face had lost all the rest of its baby fat. He wondered if Ian had looked at him too and thought about how much older he looked. He wondered how much older Ian was going to look if this shit kept happening.

Fuck it. It wasn't like Mickey was doing anything better with his life. "Let's get hitched."

 _That_ surprised Ian. It was more satisfying than it should have been. Almost worth it for the look on Ian's face. "What the fuck, Mickey?"

"You fuckin' heard me." Mickey leaned forward, elbows on his knees and eyes focused on Ian's. "I'm officially fuckin' divorced, not like there's any other spouse on my medical. Get hitched, you get your pills, get your shit together enough that you can get another job and get your own fuckin' insurance, we get divorced. Fuckin' easy."

"You know we'll have to live together and shit, right? You don't even like me." Ian wasn't saying no though.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at him. "You got a better plan, tough guy?"

For a couple more seconds Ian just stared at him like Mickey was the crazy one. Saying that he'd been fucking joking, lighten up Gallagher, was on the tip of his tongue until Ian laughed, short and not any happier than the rest of this shit. "Fuck you. No, I fuckin' don't."

"So marry me." And in a different life, a better life, Mickey might have said that shit to Ian Gallagher and meant it.

In a better life, the "sure" that Ian gave him might have made him the happiest man in the fucking world instead of feeling like another nail in the fucking coffin of Mickey ever doing anything smart again.

* * *

Mickey was going to kill him.

Their wedding was supposed to be quick and dirty at the courthouse and no one was supposed to know until it was already over and they couldn't make a big deal about it. Ian had agreed to that; it wasn't like it was a real wedding and it wasn't like either Mickey or Ian had great memories associated with real weddings anyway. If they'd been getting married for real, because they'd wanted to marry each other, then Ian might have tried to talk Mickey into something with his family there. Maybe at the Alibi, or in their back yard. Not like either of them could afford much but if they'd really been getting married Ian would have wanted to celebrate.

Ian should have known that it wasn't going to work out that easily. Sneaking out and meeting up with Mickey at the courthouse should have been easy. If they'd waited a little longer maybe it would have been. This soon after he'd gotten out of the hospital though?

Debbie had caught him before he'd even gotten off the porch and Ian thought she must have developed some kind of mom superpowers or something because as soon as she'd given him this _look_ he'd caved and told her exactly where he was going and exactly why he was going there. Then he'd waited for her to assume he was being impulsive because he was manic, just like every other time he'd told them he wanted to do something spur of the moment.

Somehow he'd ended up with his entire family trailing him to the courthouse instead. Fiona and Debbie had put on dresses; Franny was wearing something ridiculously frilly and Liam was in his school uniform. Lip had looped a tie around his neck like that classed up his jeans and t-shirt—since Ian knew that he had plenty of dressier shit he figured that was Lip's compromise between Ian begging them to keep this casual and Debbie's orders to look nice. Fiona'd finally managed to get Carl on FaceTime by the time they got to the courthouse and some of the guys in his unit were hanging over his shoulder.

Basically? Things had gotten completely out of hand and Ian hadn't even had the chance to let Mickey know before they met him there because he didn't even have Mickey's new number saved on his phone. So, yeah. He was going to kill Ian before they managed to tie the knot.

"If you'd given us more time then we could have gotten a cake." It wasn't the first time Debbie had told him what he was missing out on by not giving them more time to plan and Ian had a feeling that somehow? All of it was still going to happen. He loved his family. He even loved all the crazy shit that they got into but he loved it more when it wasn't him in the middle of it.

It definitely wasn't the first time that Ian had reminded her, "We wanted to keep it small. It's not a big deal, Debs. Just a piece of paper." It had made Ian feel sick when it was Mickey telling him that once. There was an echo of that in his stomach when he repeated it to Debbie. 

Debbie's chin was set at that angle that meant that she was getting stubborn about it; Ian recognized it because it was the exact same jut he saw in the mirror when it was his turn to dig his heels in about something. "You're marrying your high school sweetheart. Your first love. Of _course_ it's special." That was the thing about Debbie. Somehow she'd still managed to hold on to that romantic streak. Like Ian and Mickey ending up together was proof that love was real or whatever.

It made Ian feel even worse about the fact that all of this was a lie.

"Maybe I still am. We're late. He might have given up and left already." Ian checked his phone again; not quite half an hour past the time that he and Mickey had agreed on the last time they'd seen each other. 

Debbie's hand found his; she tangled their fingers together. "If he really loves you he'll wait as long as he needs to."

Ian couldn't even tell her that was the problem. Mickey didn't love him. If Ian didn't show up Mickey would probably assume that he'd changed his mind about it. They'd agreed that they could do that. No hard feelings, just don't show up and that would be a clear enough message for both of them. "Yeah. I guess you're right." If Mickey hadn't waited? Ian was going to have a lot of explaining to do when they got there.

The way his heart jumped when he saw Mickey pacing in front of the courthouse steps was just nerves about explaining to Mickey why all of them were there with him, obviously.

"Mickey!" Debbie waved to him and started walking faster, pulling Ian along by the hand when his feet faltered. "I'm so happy for you guys." Her free arm wrapped around Mickey's shoulders, her cheek pressed against his and Ian lingered awkwardly behind her with a grimace.

Mickey didn't even look surprised when he looked over all of them. "Who got it out of you first, loose lips?" 

"Me." Debbie pulled back and punched Mickey in the shoulder. "And I shouldn't have had to use the mom face on him to learn that my brother was getting married."

Even though it couldn't have hurt Mickey rubbed his shoulder. "Fuck! Calm the fuck down, little red, we were gonna tell you after." He shrugged. "What the fuck ever. Guess we needed witnesses."

That, Ian thought while they all piled into the courthouse together, everyone talking at the same time, was why Mickey was the only one that he could have done this with. Specifically _this_ , faking the whole thing. Not getting married. Getting married to Mickey had been off the table a long time ago. 

It might have been an accident that he and Mickey got jostled together while they walked. Considering it was Debbie's shoulder that knocked him almost into Mickey though? Ian really doubted it. "Thanks," he muttered to Mickey. It was under his breath but even if anyone did hear it… he could have meant anything. He still meant for putting up with wedding crashers.

"Whatever, Gallagher. I knew they were fuckin' crazy before I decided to marry you." Ian figured he was the only one that noticed that Mickey hesitated before he threw an arm around Ian's shoulders. Ian could still remember the last time he'd done that. Before the MPs. Before Mickey went to jail. Back when Ian had thought that maybe they had a chance at making this shit work out for real.

It was the last thing that they had a chance to say to each other before they were in front of some bored woman in a baggy pantsuit repeating the fastest vows that she had in her book. Debbie was wiping her eyes. Fiona looked worried but whenever she caught Ian looking she faked a smile. The phone screen was close enough that Ian could see that a few more guys had crowded in behind Carl like they actually cared about seeing his big brother get married or something. Lip and Liam were almost identically bored and Franny had disappeared somewhere. Ian wasn't too worried about it; she always showed up again.

"…by the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss."

They hadn't talked about that being part of it. If Ian's family hadn't shown up they probably would have been able to get away with a quick peck. It wasn't like anyone from the courthouse would know that they weren't just against PDA or whatever. Ian's family though? Ian's family would know there was something wrong.

Their eyes met. Mickey licked his lips and Ian decided _fuck it_.

Kissing Mickey again felt exactly the same as the last time, just less bloody and bruised. Maybe they were older but Mickey's lips still felt the same against his. The way he had to bend to meet them was the same and the way that Mickey stayed frozen for a second before he melted into it…

Yeah. That was the same too. 

It was the sound of cheering, tinny through a phone speaker, that snapped Ian out of it. He pulled back and he didn't even think about licking the taste of Mickey off his tingling lips. Not for more than a second anyway. Not that he'd ever tell Mickey about.

* * *

Having Ian living with him shouldn't have been easy. Mickey thought it should have been the hardest thing in the fucking world to have Ian at the breakfast table every morning and to say goodnight to him before he fell into his empty bed every evening.

Turned out the hard thing was not having Ian follow him into the room they'd shared once and curl up in that empty bed with him and if that wasn't fucked up after as long as they _hadn't_ been together Mickey didn't know what the fuck was. Ian was still up way before Mickey every morning for one of his longass fucking runs and they fell back into the start of the day like they'd never stopped doing it in the first place. If Mickey was up before Ian got back he made breakfast; if he wasn't then Ian had something waiting for him by the time he dragged himself out of bed and finished his shower. Ian packed him a lunch and they said bye at the fucking door.

It was as close to perfect as Mickey's life had ever gotten and it was all a fucking lie.

"And then this _fuckin' dumbass_ tries to say he didn't fuckin' know that shit could get caught in the line. Pretty sure he was tryin' to get fucked up so he could get fuckin' worker's comp or some shit like that." Mickey was making dinner. He'd gotten home before Ian since there'd been some kind of Gallagher shit going on that day and apparently the second Ian was doing better he had to be one of the responsible adults in the family again because it was somebody else's turn to do something stupid.

Not that Mickey minded making dinner. Ian sat at the table while he did it, turned toward him like he was actually listening to all of Mickey's bitching. "Probably. You know how many times Frank's gotten away with that shit?"

"Yeah, well…" Mickey didn't want to give Frank Gallagher any credit he didn't have to but he had to admit this much: "At least Frank was probably more subtle about it." As much of a fuckup as Frank was, there were some things that he was an artist with. A well-played con was one of them.

Ian snorted and shook his head. "You'd be surprised. Frank's not subtle. He's just really good at talking his way out of it when he fucks something up."

That one Mickey couldn't argue with. There were times that he'd wanted to be a little more like Frank. Like when he got his ass caught doing something back when he was a dumbass kid and got shipped off to juvie again. Somehow Frank could get away with fucking murder and not end up suffering for it. Mickey had lost eight years of his life because he fucked up taking some pill popping bitch's pulse.

Fuck Frank Gallagher. 

"That why they needed you today? Some shit Frank did?" Mickey shouldn't have cared about it. It wasn't like any of Ian's Gallagher shitshow had anything to do with Mickey for real. Just because their names were on a fucking piece of paper it didn't mean that Mickey was part of his family and it didn't mean that he needed to worry about what kind of bullshit the rest of them were getting tangled up in.

Except Fiona had started smiling at him every time they ran into each other and Mickey'd always had a soft spot for the three littlest Gallaghers. Phillip could go fuck himself though.

Ian shook his head again. "Nah. Liam stole some shit from one of the kids at that fancy school he goes to. Had to get it back where it belonged and cover his ass. Like with Debs and the baby."

"Fuck." Mickey grinned at the pot of mac and cheese he was stirring. "I fuckin' forgot about that shit." Not that Mickey'd been part of that one either but Ian'd told him about it while they'd been together. Probably in the middle of another massive Gallagher fuck up that Mickey had been sucked into that one glorious fucking almost year they'd been a real couple and everyone had known it.

That wasn't the kind of shit that you should miss. The Gallaghers were the world's worst possible in-laws and Mickey shouldn't regret a little that he'd been at work and he couldn't get dragged into this one.

They got lucky and he and Ian would be divorced before the next time it happened.

"How could you forget that?" Ian was trying really hard not to laugh; Mickey hadn't forgotten what that looked like on him either. Back when they were together it was usually because of Mickey he made that face. The one where he knew that something shouldn't be funny but he couldn't help thinking that it was anyway. Sometimes Mickey'd said something dumb just so he'd get that fucking look on his stupid perfect face.

Mickey figured the cheese powder was as stirred in as that shit was getting. He grabbed a couple of plates and start slopping that shit on there. "Fuck. Why the fuck was anyone surprised she got herself knocked up after she'd pulled that shit?" 

" _Fiona_ was surprised." Ian shrugged. "She's raised enough kids she can't understand why anyone would want any more."

Yeah. Mickey got that. He hadn't wanted the one he'd gotten in the first place. Sometimes he still thought about the little shitsack but… Ian had been the one that had always been into playing dad. Good at it too. "What about you? You ever want…" He almost said another. From what he heard it'd been a long time since Ian'd had anything to do with Yev though. "Kids?"

That was a fucking stupid question. Not like Mickey'd have anything to do with any babies Ian might adopt someday when he had his shit back together. He'd probably find some preppy perfect boyfriend. Maybe one of those older guys he'd always liked that already had a couple kids of his own. He opened his mouth to tell Ian to forget he asked but then it'd be obvious that he cared about the fucking answer.

"After as much as Monica fucked us all up?" Ian quirked a brow at Mickey. "There's a reason I never tried to get Svet to let me see Yevgeny after I was doing better. What if this shit had happened to me when there was a fuckin' kid depending on me?" 

Fuck. Yeah. Mickey guessed he was right about that. Still seemed fucked up. He'd been better with Mickey's kid than Mickey ever was. "You're not your fuckin' mom."

"But I could be. I'm a good big brother. And I'm a good uncle. But I'm not gonna put a kid through me fucking off when my meds are off and then coming around wanting to be a dad again." Ian didn't even say it like it bothered him. Just like it was a fucking fact of life or something and Mickey could still remember that little freckle-faced asshole who'd thought that he could be anything he wanted to be.

"Whatever." Mickey scowled and poked at the shitty porkchops he'd gotten in one of those 'oh fuck this shit's about to go bad' sales while they sizzled in the pan. They'd probably cooked long enough that any shit that might have been wrong with them was cooked out. Meat that you didn't have to cook until it was leather was for people who could afford nice shit. "Just figured you'd be into that shit. Fuck me for asking."

"Mick…" Ian was thinking about saying something serious. Mickey could tell that too. It was a relief when instead he said, "If you're trying to tell me you're knocked up you coulda started it off better."

"Fuck you, dickhead."

Mickey was smiling again when he slapped meat on the plates too and followed it up by dumping half a can of peas on each one. He started going through the bottles sitting on the counter, Ian's meds and all the fucking B vitamins and shit that the doctor'd said would help them work better. This time Ian had been able to tell him which ones he actually needed at least. His palm was still pretty full by the time he got done with all the shit that Ian was supposed to take with dinner.

A few peas spilled over the side of one of the plates when Mickey plunked them down on the table; they rolled across the scuffed surface and onto the floor. Maybe they should get a fucking dog or something to clean that shit up for them, wasn't that what you did when you weren't going to have kids? Ian would probably be just as good with a fucking dog. 

Mickey dropped his handful of pills on the table beside Ian's plate. "Take your fuckin' pills."

And then he fucked up. He fucked up bad.

Mickey didn't fucking know why he did it. Maybe because he went temporarily fucking insane or something. Maybe because the last time he'd been the one handing this shit to Ian he'd had the right to. Whatever the fucking reason Mickey leaned in and smacked a kiss against Ian's forehead.

 _Fuck_.

The two of them stayed frozen for a second, Ian in his chair and Mickey leaned over him, neither of them quite making eye contact. Mickey's heart was racing like Ian had pulled a fucking gun on him or something. The silence was heavy and awkward enough that Mickey could feel it and he was the worst at that kind of shit.

"I gotta… bathroom." Mickey managed to choke it out before he fucking bolted and slammed the door behind him. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was what he fucking got for playing house with Gallagher. Now… he was just gonna have to hope that if he refused to talk about it Ian would get the message or assume it was a fucking joke or something. Yeah. That was gonna fucking happen about the time that Mickey stopped being a total fucking failure at life.

* * *

Maybe Mandy hadn't done the best job keeping in touch but she still shouldn't have had to hear from one of the bitches she'd gone to high school with that her own brother had gotten married.

Actually? It didn't even surprise her with Mickey. She figured the only reason she'd known he was getting married the first time was that they were both still living at home. What she really shouldn't have had to find out from that dumb bitch was that her best friend was getting married. To her brother. When the last time she'd talked to Ian he'd moved on to have some fun with other guys because Mickey was out of the picture.

Mandy knew she hadn't done that great a job being around for Ian either. It'd been… god. _Years_ since the last time they'd actually talked for more than a few minutes at a time. They were both busy. Work. Relationships. It was weird that Mandy still thought of Ian as her best friend at all but there'd never been anyone else like him in her life. Ian Gallagher would be her ride-or-die bitch no matter how long it had been since they'd talked and getting married was the kind of thing that you told your ride-or-die bitch about no matter what. She should have been his best woman and she would cut whatever bitch he'd asked instead.

Apparently walking back into the old neighborhood was all it took for her to forget that she wasn't just another Milkovich anymore and start planning to fuck some people up. Mandy laughed at herself under her breath while she unlocked the front door of the house that she'd heard Mickey still lived in now that he was out of jail. It made her feel a little warm and fuzzy that he hadn't changed the lock for a second; that was how long it took her to remind herself that it was probably just because changing locks took money and effort. Still. It was nice to know that she could always go back home if she needed to.

The house had never been so quiet before. There'd always been someone asleep on the couch or banging around even this early in the morning. Usually it was because they were still up from the night before; that was why Mandy was there so early. She hadn't exactly come straight from the club where she'd learned about the fact that Ian was her brother-in-law now but she'd only stopped by home long enough to wash off some of her makeup and change out of her skanky dress and into something that she could kick her brother's ass in without worrying about it getting fucked up.

For a second she stood right inside the door and looked around. The house had changed since the last time she'd seen it but it was still the same in more ways than should have been comfortable. She could still see holes in the walls and remember who had put them there and when and what they'd been mad about. Mandy didn't miss this place but it didn't suck as much to be back in it as she'd thought that it would.

The fact that Terry was gone and he wouldn't be coming back this time was the only reason that she'd set foot there at all.

It was cleaner than it had been when she was growing up there. Like someone was actually taking care of the fucking place. It didn't smell like too many unwashed male bodies and sheets covered in things that she didn't want to think about. It actually seemed like the kind of place that could have been a real home.

The door to Mickey's bedroom cracked open and Mickey stumbled out in just his boxers with his eyes still half closed and his hand scratching his ass.

Looked like some things didn't ever change.

Mandy got across the living room before he even noticed her and socked him in the arm.

"Fuckin' _ow_ , Mandy!" Mickey clutched at his arm with his eyes finally popping all the way open. "The fuck you do tha—" The moment when it actually sunk in that Mandy was there was actually visible on his face. It was satisfying in a way that Mandy hadn't realized something like that could be. "What the fuck are you doing here, doucheface?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe I came to congratulate you on getting _married_ , dickbreath." Mandy pulled back to punch him again; this time Mickey got his arm around her neck and got her in a hold before she could land it. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?" Mandy jabbed her elbow into his gut and knocked a soft sound out of him.

Mickey knuckled the top of her head. She'd have been pissed if her hair could have gotten any worse than it already was. "I don't fuckin' know. We just fuckin' did it, it's not like we planned that shit out. I fuckin' asked, he said yes, I dragged his ass to the courthouse before he could change his mind."

That was one that Mandy had trouble arguing with. She guessed if her asshole brother had been lucky enough to get Ian back he really should have put a ring on it before Ian got away again. She stomped hard on his foot anyway. "You still should have called me. Or Ian shoulda." She broke free and turned to look past Mickey into the bedroom.

The bed was rumpled but empty. "Where's Ian?"

"Uh." Mickey froze like a deer in the headlights for a second. His eyes darted to the door to Iggy's old room and then back to her. "Guess he musta got up early. He goes for these fuckin' runs and shit."

Mandy wasn't stupid. "Right. So you assholes aren't really married."

"What? Of course we fuckin' are. We're…" Mickey _really_ wasn't looking at her now but he was making damn sure to look everywhere but Iggy's room. Mandy waited him out, arms crossed over her chest. Give Mickey something to bounce off of and he could come up with something clever. Let him flail around on his own and he panicked and fucked himself over every time.

And just like she'd known he would, Mickey folded. "Look. We're really fuckin' married, okay? Just… not like that. He needed the fuckin' insurance and… you can't fuckin' tell anybody, Mands."

"Of course I'm not gonna fuckin' tell." It was actually kinda romantic. In a weird way.

Mandy knew her brother. Doing someone a favor that big? That was only something he did if he planned on getting something even bigger out of them or if they were family and he loved them. So… they hadn't gotten married because they were in love. That didn't mean that Mickey wasn't.

Obviously these idiots needed Mandy's help if they were still sleeping in separate bedrooms. She had some vacation time saved up and no one expecting her anywhere. This was totally doable. "I'm gonna stay a few days. Catch up with Ian. My room better not be fuckin' disgusting." By the time she left they were going to be so gross together that it made her want to kill them or her name wasn't Mandy fucking Milkovich.

* * *

Ian had honestly thought that Mickey was going to kill him for the wedding but this time Mickey was _really going to kill him_.

Lucky for him Mickey'd had to work second shift that night. Even luckier that he'd texted Ian and told him that he'd picked up some overtime so he wouldn't be home until after one. Or maybe it wasn't luck. Maybe Mickey was trying to avoid him because they still hadn't talked about the fact that Mickey had fucking kissed him. Not like an 'I want you to fuck me' kiss either. Ian would have gotten that. Him and Mickey, even when shit had been bad the sex had been amazing. Them fucking wouldn't have surprised Ian. That kiss though… that was different. That was something a little more intimate than Mickey trying to find his tonsils or what the fuck ever.

When Ian closed his eyes he could still almost feel Mickey's lips against his forehead and he was pretty sure he was going fucking insane.

It didn't have to mean anything. Ian knew that it didn't have to fucking mean anything. Maybe it was reflex. Once it'd been nothing for Mickey to lean in and brush his lips against Ian's head. Something he didn't even think about before he did it. They were living together now. _Again_. That made shit confusing. Maybe everything would have gone back to normal if they'd just had a couple days to get some space from each other and remember that this was all a giant fucking lie.

Ian being stretched out in Mickey's bed wasn't going to help with that shit at all.

He was half asleep when the door creaked open and the light flipped on; a quick glance at the clock told him that it was three in the morning. Yeah. This was the perfect time to have this conversation.

"The fuck are you doing in my bed, Gallagher?" Mickey's face couldn't decide if it wasn't to be pissed off or shocked and Ian couldn't exactly blame it.

"Keep your fuckin' voice down and I'll explain. You're gonna wake 'em up."

Mickey closed the door behind him slowly. He _did_ keep his voice down though. "Who the fuck is them?"

"Yeah, so…" Ian took a deep breath and just went for it. "There was a pipe that busted at the house. It's flooded, no one can fuckin' stay there until it dries out so…" Ian could tell from the look on Mickey's face that he already knew exactly where this was going. "They decided since there were plenty of rooms open here and we're only usin' one that they'd drop in. It's, uh." Ian counted them off on his fingers. "Fiona. Lip. Debs and Franny. Liam." Plus Mandy already staying in her room. She'd laughed her ass off when they all turned up and then volunteered to let Debbie and Franny stay with her. Like a sleepover. Debbie had been thrilled. Ian owed her too much for distracting them while he hauled all his shit from his room to Mickey's to get her back for encouraging them.

"Fuck." Mickey let himself fall onto the side of the bed. "So we gotta share."

Ian stared at his hands. "We could tell them the truth." Mandy knew already and she was fine with it. Ian knew that his family would get it too. It was just… Fiona had smiled at him and run a hand over his hair and talked about how good he was doing with Mickey. How good Mickey was for him. It'd made Ian feel like a little kid and terribly grown up all at the same time.

Mickey was shaking his head anyway. "Nah. The fuckin' second we spill to them someone's gonna fuck it up. It's your fuckin' family curse."

Since that was so fucking true that Ian couldn't even be offended he just winced. "Yeah. That. So…" So they were going to have to share and Ian had already been going crazy just wrapping himself up in sheets that smelled like Mickey. "Fuck. I'm sorry, Mick."

Mickey stared at him for so long that Ian started to shift uncomfortably before he sighed. "What the fuck ever, Gallagher, I'm so fuckin' tired I could fall asleep next to Mandy, and that bitch fuckin' kicks like a mule when she sleeps." Only Mickey would actually sound proud of his sister for that. It was so endearing that Ian almost dragged him down to get tangled in the sheets with him right then.

"This isn't… it doesn't have to be anything." But it could be. That was what Ian wanted to add. They could just try, while his family was there. See if it was as good as it used to be. See if they could settle back into fucking and being a couple just as easily as they'd settled back into living together.

Before he could figure out how to say it in a way that wouldn't make Mickey uncomfortable, Mickey was snorting and kicking his boots off. "Course it fuckin' doesn't. We're not together, Gallagher."

Ian swallowed against the knot in his throat. "Right. Want me to…"

"Just scoot your lanky ass over." Mickey pushed himself up long enough to flip the light off and kick his boots off. Ian could hear them thumping against the floor and wondered how much more Mickey would take off. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. It didn't mean anything. It wasn't anything. But the sheets smelled like Mickey and the last time the two of them had curled up here together it had been as a real couple. Ian was pretty sure it was the same broken down mattress that they'd laid on then. Felt like it anyway.

Even the side of the bed that Ian had settled on was the same one that he'd always taken. Maybe that was weird. Maybe he should have scooted the other direction but he slept better on this side of the bed. He'd settled on the same side of his body he always did too, turned toward the inside of the bed.

That was definitely something that he should have done differently. He could still turn over but…

Mickey settled onto the mattress beside him and wiggled under the covers. "Better keep those long fuckin' legs on your side, Gallagher." Ian couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a joke or not. He laughed anyway.

For a few minutes the only sound was their breathing, deep and steady. Ian counted Mickey's in and out the way that he might have counted sheep. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd shared a bed with someone else just to sleep. He could remember exactly how long it had been since he'd shared a bed with Mickey.

"Can't believe I have a house full of fuckin' Gallaghers," Mickey mumbled into the silence. "Someone better fuckin' make breakfast."

"Already told 'em they owe us pancakes," Ian promised him.

"Banana?"

"Of course."

"Better fuckin' be."

Ian closed his eyes and fought a smile. "Do we even have any fuckin' bananas, Mick?"

"They can go…" The rest of that was completely impossible to translate. Ian guessed Mickey really had been exhausted if he could fall asleep that fast, in the middle of a sentence.

Ian was starting to think that maybe he couldn't fucking do this. He shouldn't have fucking wanted it. He was the one that had broken things off with Mickey… but all those reasons? They didn't matter anymore. Ian was on his meds. He didn't need Mickey to be willing to accept him off of them. He didn't wanna _be_ off of them anymore. Mickey hadn't been fucking smothering him since they'd started living together. Sure, he still made sure Ian had his pills and all that shit but he wasn't losing his shit over this. Ian could still feel _normal_ instead of like he had a boyfriend who was waiting for him to fall apart any second and driving him even crazier every time he hovered a minute too long.

Maybe they'd both been disasters back then but now Ian thought that they were ready to be functional adults and that was the strangest fucking thing of all. Something to think about while he listened to Mickey breathe and something to try _not_ to think about when he started drifting into sleep.

* * *

The ancient mattress dipped down in the middle. If either of them had been thinking about it they would have remembered that. They might have even put up some kind of pillow wall between them to keep them from drifting together in the middle of the night.

If Ian was still awake when Mickey's back settled against his chest and their bodies curved to fit together just as well as they ever had when they were kids he didn't do anything to stop it.

If Mickey woke up when Ian's arm draped over him in his sleep and pulled him even snugger against him he didn't even try to pull away.

No one would ever know if either of those things were true.

* * *

If Lip hadn't dropped his pen he wouldn't have noticed that there was a balled up sock that definitely didn't belong to him under the bed in a room he'd been told that nobody was using. If he hadn't done that it might have taken him a hell of a lot longer to figure out that his brother was faking the whole being in a relationship with Mickey Milkovich thing.

Not that it was just the sock that had given it away. There was the way that Ian had been jumpy when they'd all first showed up and thrown them at Mandy while he 'got the rooms ready'. The fact that no one had heard anything about a boyfriend at all before suddenly Mickey was at the hospital and then they were heading off to the courthouse. How Ian and Mickey didn't quite look at each other every morning while they were leaving the bedroom that they were sharing, that Lip guessed they _hadn't_ been sharing before they all moved in.

Mostly? It was that he hadn't even heard them having sex once. He'd been pretty fine with just ignoring how weird that was if he didn't have to overhear Mickey taking it up the ass but now that he made himself think about it? Yeah. Fucking weird. Those jackasses had never known how to keep their hands off each other when they were fucking. There was a reason they kept fucking getting caught.

As for what he was supposed to do about figuring it out the answer should have been nothing. That was their fucking business. Lip could respect it. Mickey was a good guy sometimes. When he wasn't trying to impress anyone. It wasn't hard to figure out why he'd done it or why Ian had gone along with it. Besides, this was probably the most stable marriage that anyone in the Gallagher family had even had. Who knew the trick was to not actually be fucking the person you were married to?

He should have done nothing. Instead he was poking around their room while everyone was gone like he thought that was going to tell him anything that he didn't already know. For example: that if they were fucking they weren't using rubbers. Big fucking deal. Lip knew way too much about his brother's sex life and he knew for a fact that didn't mean anything.

"This is fucking stupid," he muttered into the drawer he was staring into like it might actually have some kind of answer. Even if he did find proof that they were faking it he wasn't going to fuck this up for them. Maybe it was fucking unfair to both of them but Ian needed those meds more than he needed a real boyfriend.

The voice that answered him wasn't Ian's or Mickey's, at least. "Risking finding Mickey's sex toys? Yeah, it is. Been there. Done that. Can't bleach it out of my brain."

It could have been a decade ago when Lip turned around, Mandy Milkovich leaning in the doorway of a bedroom that Lip happened to be in and shooting him a naughty grin. "Mandy…" Fuck. He had to explain this somehow.

"If you're looking for proof that they aren't fucking you aren't going to find it." Mandy stepped inside the room and the illusion was broken. She looked older—not old. Not bad. She just looked like a woman instead of a girl that was pretending to be too old for her age. "Thought you were smarter than that. It's so much harder to prove something isn't happening than it is to prove it is."

"So they're not?" Lip figured if anyone would know it was Mandy. Ian had talked to her about shit even when he wasn't talking to Lip.

"They _wish_ they were." Mandy pushed her hair back out of her face. "It's a marriage of convenience."

Lip snorted. "Figures. It's like some fucked up romcom or some shit."

"So you're saying all we have to do is get them caught in the rain and our problems are solved?" Lip didn't say anything but Mandy flipped him off anyway. "Shut up. I like romances sometimes."

Fuck. Lip should just stay out of it. It was their choice. They were adults even if they were the stupidest adults in the world… because yeah. Ian had never fucking gotten over Mickey no matter how many years or guys there were between them. He should laugh it off and tell Mandy that they should leave it alone. "Nah. They'd just get out of the fucking rain. What else you got?"

Mandy's grin was brilliant. "I've got a list."

God she was beautiful. Lip was reminding himself as much as he was telling her when he said, "Mandy… there's a girl."

"Of course there's a girl." Mandy's smile turned softer. A little sad. "You're Lip Gallagher. There's always going to be a girl. It's okay. Just because my brother's gonna end up with the first guy he ever loved it doesn't mean we all want to."

It was awkward for a second before Lip cleared his throat and asked her, "Got any paper? We should probably write this shit down."

Mandy did. And it turned out Mandy liked romances more than a little, going by how much shit she could come up with off the top of her head. When Lip told her that and she threw his own fucking pen at him it felt almost more like hanging out with an old friend than someone whose heart he'd broken twice.

They'd crossed off dramatic airport reunion because the chances of either Ian or Mickey getting on a plane with plans to never come back were pretty much none. Having to huddle together for warmth wasn't completely out of the question—Chicago could get fucking cold in the winter—but they couldn't fucking control that one, especially if everyone remembered to pay the electric bill. Getting them to argue and then jump each other would work but they'd done that shit more than enough times and they were still in this fucking mess now, and hooking one of them up with another guy to make the other one jealous would just end with whatever poor asshole got in the middle getting the shit kicked out of him.

"This is the one then," Lip told her, pointing to the last thing on their list. There were scribbles and notes covering most of the sheet but there was only one that they could figure out how to make work without anyone getting hurt… except maybe them if Mickey wasn't too busy enjoying their genius when it was all over. Lip was willing to risk that. He trusted his own planning, probably a little too much.

Mandy nodded and ripped the page out of the notebook. "That's it. You do your part and I've got mine." That smile was back but this time Lip didn't feel like he needed to warn either of them. "They don't stand a chance against us." 

Yeah. Yeah, Lip guessed she was right. They might have made a pretty shitty couple but they made a pretty damn good team. Maybe they could fix someone else's shit after this; Lip knew he'd rather do that than worry about his own. Maybe that was what he and Mandy really had in common.

* * *

"Hold the fuckin' elevator!" Mickey was almost running to get to the fucking thing anyway; if whatever fucker was in there closed that shit before he could get on he was going to fucking murder them. He didn't even know why he was in this stupid fucking building anyway, waiting who the fuck knew how much longer to catch it on the next time through wasn't fucking happening. Mandy could find some other asshole to come pick up whatever the fuck the thing he was there to get was.

No, he hadn't fucking asked. Mandy had started in with the fucking tears and Mickey would have done anything to make her fucking stop. Not like he had anything better to do with his day off.

He slid an arm between the doors before they closed and then slid himself into the tiny hell room on the other side of them and jabbed the button for his floor before he doubled over to catch his fucking breath. Thank fuck. Better if there hadn't been someone else sharing it with him but he could fucking deal with it as long as that meant this would be over with sooner. Just as long as they didn't fucking try to start a conversation with him…

"Mick?"

Mickey looked up slowly. "The fuck?" Yeah. That was Ian. On the same fucking elevator as him for some reason. If Mandy had called him to come pick her shit up too and didn't bother telling Mickey that he didn't need to come then _she_ was the one that he was going to murder. He'd fucking asked her why she didn't ask Ian to come do this shit.

Not that Ian was dressed like he was running some kind of bullshit errand for Mickey's pushy bitch of a sister. He looked fucking nice. Like he was going to some kind of fancy office job or one of those parties for his fancy fucking friends that he'd had when he'd been working at the fucking gay club. Not that Mickey was into that shit. He'd have to be fucking blind not to stare at him a little though.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mickey was coming up blank on why Ian would need to be dressed up so nice and everything he could think of settled painfully in his stomach. Not like he had any fucking claim on him. They were just married.

Ian held his arms out to the side like the way he was dressed was supposed to explain anything at all. "Lip told me he'd got me an interview. He knows someone that works in an office upstairs, they're lookin' for someone to work the front desk. What are _you_ doing here?" Yeah. That was fucking fair. Mickey had less reason to be somewhere nice like this than Ian did.

Even better question, why would his fucking sister need something from somewhere this nice? "Mandy—"

The elevator lurched to a stop. Mickey would have fallen right the fuck over if Ian's arm hadn't darted out to catch him. Mickey stumbled into him instead, hand flying up to brace himself against Ian's chest.

His chest was fucking ridiculous under Mickey's hand, even through his shirt. Mickey muttered a soft "fuck" and pulled away like it had burned him. The fucking unfortunate part of Ian feeling better was that the fucker was back to working out and Mickey had to see all that. Every fucking day. Sometimes he even had to see it shirtless and sweaty.

"Hey!" Mickey turned away from him and pounded his fist against the elevator door. "Fuckin' fix this shit, assholes!"

"Don't bother." Ian was using his 'dealing with Gallagher shit' voice. "Lip and Mandy set us up."

They fucking what? "Why the fuck do you think that?" Not that Mickey didn't think they would. Just that Ian had jumped there awfully fucking fast.

"It's Lip's friend _Joaquin_ that works here." Again, like Ian thought that was supposed to tell Mickey something. Mickey shook his head slowly, lips pursed, and Ian sighed. "The tech guy. Just guessin', but I'm pretty sure if he can hack and shit he can find some way to stop a fucking elevator so it won't start again until he fuckin' starts it. And why the fuck else would Lip send me and Mandy send you?"

Good fucking point. Mickey stopped hitting the door. "Well fuck."

"Yeah."

So they were trapped in a fucking elevator until… what? Mickey grabbed his phone and sent a quick text:

WTF BITCH <

The answer came fast enough that Mickey fucking knew that she'd been watching her phone.

> talk 2 him ok

What the fuck did she think that they were going to talk about on a fucking elevator that they couldn't talk about at home? Mickey scowled at his phone and hit her back with a few middle finger emojis. Of course she didn't fucking respond.

When he looked up again Ian was frowning at his phone too; Mickey was guessing he'd texted Lip. He could have told him that was just going to piss him off. "He tellin' you to talk too?"

Ian snorted. "I wish." 

Yeah. Whatever the fuck that meant. Mickey shoved his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the elevator wall. "Guess we're fuckin' stuck until they're done bein' assholes." That could be a long fucking while.

"Guess so." Ian's grip on his phone tightened. "Fuck. Fuck Lip for making me think I actually might get a job out of this. Sorry, Mick. Thought maybe I could come home and tell you that you're gonna get your divorce and get rid of me."

That was what they'd agreed on but Ian made it sound like some passive aggressive bullshit. Like Mickey was trying to push him out the fucking door or something. "The fuck's that supposed to mean? Never fuckin' said I cared how long we stayed married."

"Yeah. I know." And now he sounded even fucking madder about it. Fucking great. 

"So what's your fuckin' deal?" Mickey'd thought they were good. They weren't talking about Mickey trying to kiss him or the fact that they'd woke up fucking spooning every morning. He figured that meant they were just ignoring it until they could get through this shit and go back to normal.

The look Ian gave him could have made someone who wasn't used to him being a little bitch burst into flames. "Don't have to say it, kissing me and then running the fuck away says it clear enough."

Fuck. They _weren't talking about that_. "Yeah, well, you're usin' me as a teddy bear and not tryin' to fuck me so…" Fuck. They weren't talking about that either and Mickey didn't even fucking know where he'd been going with it.

"You said it didn't mean anything."

The _fuck_. "You fuckin' said that shit first. I was just fuckin' agreeing with you."

"I said it didn't _have_ to." Ian didn't even give him a chance to get a fucking word in. "You're the one that said we were gonna get a fuckin' _divorce_ as soon as I didn't need your fuckin' insurance anymore."

"Yeah? Well maybe you shoulda fuckin' thought I mighta changed my mind when I fuckin _kissed_ you, assface." _Fuck_. It was just a fucking kiss on the head. Like they were fucking boyfriends or something.

Ian's voice echoed in the elevator. "Maybe I was waiting for you to fuckin' _say_ something."

"Why should I have to be the one to say it when _you_ said we were fuckin' done?" Fuck. Fuck, even more than they hadn't talked about the kissing or the fucking cuddling they hadn't talked about before and the way it'd ended. "Maybe I was waiting on your ass to take it the fuck back."

The silence that came after that was just as awkward as Mickey had known it would be when he opened his big fucking mouth. He clenched his fists and his teeth and his fucking eyes closed. 

When he talked again Ian was quieter. "So you're still mad about it."

"No. Yes. Fuck. I don't fuckin' know." Mickey rubbed at his nose. "Fuck, Ian. I fuckin' loved you. And you didn't fuckin' come and see me." Except the one time and that didn't fucking count.

"It was hard to see you there. I couldn't—" Ian stepped a little closer. "I couldn't handle it. Not without going out of my fuckin' mind. I had to figure out how to handle all my shit. One more thing was just…"

"I fuckin' know that. Fuck." Mickey got it. Even when he'd been at his fucking angriest about it he'd known it was too fucking much to ask. "You didn't even fuckin' miss me."

"Of _course_ I missed you. Mick, I missed you so fuckin' much that I couldn't even think about it if I didn't wanna do something crazy. I didn't even fuckin' feel alive for years after you were gone. Then when you were back you didn't want anything to do with me." Ian's hand was on his shoulder now and Mickey should have shrugged it off.

Of course he fucking didn't. "Told myself I wouldn't. Fuckin' easier that way." Same way it'd been easier for Ian not to think about him. Fuck. "Then you're comin' up to me all fucked up asking me stupid shit and… fuck, what was the fuckin' point of you…" Mickey took a deep breath and tried to remember his stupid counseling shit. "Like you were fucked whether we were together or not so why couldn't we have just… been together."

"Do you wanna be together, Mick?" Ian was close and too fucking warm.

Mickey squirmed. "Fuck you." Like Ian had to fucking ask? Of fucking course he did. There wasn't a fucking world where Mickey didn't want to be with Ian no matter what the fuck got in the fucking way.

"I was thinkin' you'd like it better if _I_ fucked _you_. Only if you maybe don't wanna get a divorce though." Ian leaned down and his lips were a breath away from Mickey's. "Thinkin' I'm ready for that better or worse shit now."

"Oh my god, just fuckin' kiss me, bitch." Mickey closed the last of the space between them and crushed his lips against Ian's. It was too hard and too fast but Mickey didn't hear any fucking complaints. Ian was laughing into his mouth and Mickey swallowed every sound he made with a groan.

Of fucking course that was when the elevator started moving again. Mickey pulled back with a growl. "Gonna fuckin' kill that—"

"Or you could take me home." Ian's smile reminded Mickey of some freckle-faced kid he'd known a long time ago.

Fuck it. His sister and Ian's brother and this friend Joaquin weren't worth the time anyway.

* * *

No one was home when they stumbled in the front door but Ian wouldn't have fucking cared if there was. He was pretty sure that Mickey would have cared even less than he did. It felt a little like his husband (his fucking _husband_ for real now) was trying to suck his face off. Not that Ian had a problem with that. The only problem was that he had to wait any longer to start getting Mickey naked. He'd had to watch him bend over way too many times since he'd moved in without being able to do something about how fucking well his ass had aged.

Was that fucking weird? Ian didn't even care. Mickey's ass was just as nice as it had been when they were first hooking up and he'd already gotten his hands on it a couple times when they stopped to make out on the way home. He'd kind of thought that Lip and Mandy might have been waiting for them when they got off the elevator but the coast had been clear.

Then again considering that Lip had texted him that 'I'm not saying fuck him on the elevator, but if you've gotta fuck him on the elevator…' he probably expected the doors to open on something he really didn't want to see. Asshole.

"Quit fuckin' thinking and get on me, Gallagher." Mickey glaring up at him with his lips pink and swollen from kisses was the best thing that Ian had seen in a long fucking time. 

Ian brushed his lips over Mickey's ear. "Think I should be carrying you over the threshold?"

The hand on his dick was anything but subtle but that was one of the things that Ian loved about Mickey. "Think I'll fuckin' rip it off if you do. What the fuck are you waiting for?"

So much for romance. Not that Ian had really meant it anyway. That wasn't them; never would be and he was okay with that. Ian had tried the sappy romance thing. He'd tried nice guys. He'd tried everything and no matter what he did there was still nothing like this. Nothing like Mickey going for his zipper before they'd even made it halfway to the bedroom.

It was their fucking house, Ian guessed. They could fuck wherever they wanted to. Once his family was back in their own house they were going to have to make their way through every room. He heard that was the kind of shit newlyweds did.

They'd both lost their shirts before they slammed into the bedroom door, Mickey's lips attached to Ian's neck like a fucking vampire. Ian was pretty sure they hadn't even shut the front door. They'd regret it later if someone stole their shit but Ian kind of thought maybe the loud sex would scare off whoever the fuck thought they could help themselves.

Ian at least made sure the bedroom door was shut behind them, just in case whoever came home next had Franny with them. Debbie would fucking kill him if she had to answer questions about what Uncle Ian was doing to Uncle Mick.

Yeah. She called him Uncle Mick. It was fucking adorable and it should have been a major fucking boner killer to remember that when he was sinking to his knees to tug Mickey's pants down and yet? It really wasn't.

"Lube. Fuckin'…" Ian didn't know where Mickey kept his shit anymore and he really fucking needed to fix that. Soon as he could.

Mickey was already crawling onto the bed. "Fuck. In the fuckin' drawer, _hurry_." He shoved his boxers down and pressed his stomach low to the bed, ass in the air. Ian leaned in to bite it and was met with a groan and Mickey pushing back toward him.

Next time Ian thought he was going to start with his mouth and get Mickey slick with spit first. There was no fucking way he could wait that long right now though. Not when it'd been ten fucking years since he'd fucked Mickey and he needed to fix that.

Lube but no condoms and _fuck_ Ian knew that they should but… fuck it. Ian was clean and this was it for life. He'd take his fucking chances. And maybe that just meant that Mickey'd been spending a lot of time with his hand instead of some twink that Ian would have to hate and maybe hunt down and threaten to stay away from his man.

Mickey was tight but he fucked himself back onto Ian's fingers like he was dying for it. Ian made it fast and messy; Mickey had always loved when the stretch burned a little and a lot of things might have changed but he had a feeling that wasn't one of them. Ian was going to find out every single thing that was different now, every preference that might have changed, but he was glad this wasn't one of them.

"Oh fuck, Mick…" Ian was wearing his only nice pants but he just let them fall around his knees anyway and slicked his dick up. Fuck getting a job that would mean he had to dress up every day anyway… except he'd rather just fuck Mickey.

Pushing into him was like coming home. Mickey was almost painfully tight around him and Ian might have thought that the groan was pain if he hadn't been wrapping a slippery hand around Mickey's dick and _felt_ him jerk against his palm. That, and if it hadn't been followed with an "any fuckin' day, Romeo" gritted out between Mickey's teeth.

"You know they fuckin' die, right?"

"Give me a fuckin' history lesson later. Fuck me _now_."

Ian leaned down to hide a grin against Mickey's spine; he pulled back up with a quick kiss and did like he was told.

Sweat was dripping down Ian's chest by the time Mickey clenched around him and came with a litany of "fucks"; Ian followed him with Mickey's name on his lips and they collapsed, exhausted and boneless.

"Fuck." Mickey snorted and stared at the ceiling. "Guess we're not gettin' that shit annulled now."

Ian would argue until the day they fucking died as wrinkly old married men that Mickey fucking deserved the pillow to the face he got for that. Mickey never even disagreed. Didn't stop him from throwing it back into Ian's. Definitely didn't keep it from turning into wrestling. Or round two. Not that either of them were complaining.

* * *

Mickey fucking hated working third shift. He'd only been married for half a fucking year, he'd told his supervisor. He needed to be the fuck at home with his husband trying to break the fucking bed at night.

His supervisor had told him to quit fucking bragging. Mickey was pretty sure that if he ever could have loved a woman she'd be it.

Most places were still closed when he got off in the morning but there was a decent coffee place between work and home. Normally Mickey went by on his own but the new girl on shift had fucking attached herself to him. Either she thought he was going to be her new gay BFF or she thought that she could convert him or something. Whichever it fucking was Mickey figured that he'd scare her off soon enough anyway. He didn't need to be a bitch about it.

Fuck anyone who said that marriage had mellowed him. He just had something better to save the energy it'd take to bitch her out for now.

"Oh my god, the barista's so cute." Fuck. It was the gay BFF thing. Mickey fucking hated that one. She was grabbing for his arm and trying to fix her hair. "Look at him."

"Gay," Mickey told her.

"You didn't even look." She rolled her eyes. "Not every hot guy is gay." 

Mickey rolled his right back at her. "I fuckin' know that, but that one is. I'll fuckin' bet on it." 

"Loser buys coffee?" 

It was almost too fucking easy. "You've got a fuckin' deal." 

There was nobody in line. Mickey shook her hand and swaggered right up to the counter. He licked his lips and leaned forward to ask, "Got any swizzle sticks in this shithole?"

"It's not a bar, Mick." Ian was trying really hard not to smile. "You gotta stop dragging people in here and getting them to buy your coffee for you." Like that was going to fucking happen as long as Mickey had fresh blood to take advantage of.

Mickey took another look around; the place was empty and it wasn't like Ian's coworkers fucking cared if he came to see him at work. They'd had a fucking cook out with some of them a couple weeks ago. Weird as it fucking was they _liked_ him. Even when he dragged Ian partway across the counter and kissed him hard and deep. "What time you off?"

"Three. Should be home just about when you're waking up." Ian gave him another quick peck and then pushed away. Mickey resisted for just a second before he let him go.

Fuck, he wished Ian was coming home with him. Even if it was just to sleep. "Pick up beer on your way home?"

Ian grinned. "Yes, dear." Fuck, Mickey loved when he did embarrassing soppy shit like that. "Better go tell her who I am before she decides you're cheating on your husband."

Fuck her, honestly, but Mickey did have a free coffee to collect on. He had the rest of their fucking lives to make fun of Ian and he fucking intended to collect on it. 'Til death did them fucking part.


End file.
